


Birdwatchers

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 1940s, Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Espionage, F/F, Face-Sitting, London Blitz, Mention of Past Abuse, Morgana retcon, Multiple Orgasms, Redeemed Morgana (Merlin), Regaining Memories, Vaginal Fingering, my girls deserved better, past Gwen/Arthur - Freeform, so im giving it to them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22638481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: S.O.E. agents Gwen Critchlow and Morgana Penderghast meet for the first time during the London Blitz. But is this really the first time they've met?
Relationships: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	Birdwatchers

The air raid sirens screamed as Gwen Critchlow closed the door on the SOE safe house’s bomb shelter. She was scheduled to meet with her contact tonight, but clearly those plans would have to change. It had taken weeks to set up this first meeting; who knew when the next would be?

 _Keep calm and carry on_ , Gwen reminded herself. _We’ve all got to do our part, and I suppose all this waiting is mine_. She scanned the shelves for something to eat, brightening a bit when she saw canned soups. 

“Now to find a can opener.”

So caught up in finding a tool, she almost missed the sound of someone trying to open the shelter’s door. But she couldn't miss the voice calling, “Hello? Is there anyone there?”

She rushed to the door, then paused, unsure if the safe house had been compromised. Deciding that nobody deserved to be out during a raid, she opened the door.

Before her stood a woman with glossy, raven-black hair pulled back into a bun with a few wispy strands escaping and framing her face. Her face was streaked with ash, but her blue-green eyes were vibrant.

Gwen stepped back to allow her entry. “Quickly, then.” 

The woman gratefully rushed in. “Thank you, Miss-”

“Smith,” Gwen replied, thinking fast. “Gwendolyn Smith. You can call me Gwen.” Only a partial lie really. But the best covers contained some grain of truth. “And you are?”

“Morgan Penderghast,” she replied, a subtle Irish lilt to her voice. She and Gwen sized each other up, not fully trusting yet but not alarmed either.

“Well, Morgan, welcome to my humble air raid shelter,” Gwen said with a sunny smile. “It’s not much, but you can’t beat the view.” She gestured to the completely windowless walls and lack of decoration. 

“An unobstructed view of concrete, how lovely!” Morgan played along. “And is that real concrete under my feet as well?”

“You’ve a sharp eye, my lady!” Why had the instinct to say my lady come over her so suddenly? Gwen pushed it to the back of her mind for later. “But the best part is the amenities.” She walked over to the shelf of food. “We have the finest soups this side of Berlin! Vegetable, tomato...tomato...tomato…”

Morgan’s stomach audibly growled. “Would it be too much trouble to have a can of the tomato soup?”

“Not at all. How long has it been since you last ate?”

She was quiet. “Too long.”

Gwen hummed sympathetically. “You’re more than welcome to some, as long as I can find something to open them with.”

“Here, allow me.” Morgan hitched up her skirt and took a knife out of her garter, then quickly stabbed it through the edge of the can’s lid multiple times until she was able to pop the lid open. “I can do yours too, if you’d like.”

Surprised (and more than a bit turned on), Gwen wordlessly handed over her own can of soup, taking it gratefully when Morgan handed it back to her. 

That was a standard SOE thumb knife that she had pulled out. Gwen had the exact same knife in her own flat. Was Morgan an SOE agent as well? Or was she a foreign spy who’d taken it off a fallen agent?

“Where’d you learn that little trick?” Gwen asked as casually as possible.

The other woman stiffened slightly. “My father was an outdoorsman. He taught me all kinds of ways to survive.”

Taking a chance, Gwen responded with the code phrase she had been told to give her contact. “I’m a bit of a birdwatcher, myself. Have you seen any Albion Bluebirds lately?”

Morgan’s eyes lit up with recognition and gave the response Gwen was anticipating. “Not here, but I saw some in Dublin.”

“So you are my contact, then.”

“And it looks like you are mine.”

“Then let’s make the most of our time here. I have vital information about General Uther Pendragon in the German forces.”

“We've been trying to get information on his movements for months! What information do you have?”

“This.” Gwen pulled a tightly folded piece of paper from her brassiere. Morgana cleared her throat and looked away, blushing. “This is a paper detailing his plans to move his troops. If we can get this to the right people-”

“We can intercept them and take them out! How did you manage to get this?”

“The details are classified. Suffice to say, my ancestry makes them underestimate me.”

“How fitting that their concept of perfection will bring about their downfall.” 

Gwen smiled mirthlessly. “They aren't the only ones who assume things about me. They just happen to also be the enemy, not my own countrymen.”

Morgana hesitated, then placed her hand lightly on Gwen’s. “I apologize, it’s not my place to joke about such things. I wouldn't appreciate you making light of Irish struggles; I should afford you the same courtesy.”

Surprised and touched by the other woman’s self-awareness, Gwen took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Thank you, Morgan.”

They held eye contact as if connected by magnets. Morgan’s eyes flashed gold, and suddenly memories ran through Gwen’s mind.

A village. A castle. A blacksmith’s forge. A grand bedroom. A much smaller bedroom. Morgan - no, Morgana - smiling at her. Smiles that provoke ones of her own. Those smiles becoming less frequent. A crown placed upon her own head. A tower, cold and dark. 

Guinevere pulled back, reeling from the memories. “Morgana?”

Morgana’s eyes lit up, then darkened as the memories of their last years returned to her as well. “Guinevere.”

Gwen scrambled backwards a few feet, but still not far. “What is it you want with me?”

Morgana’s face fell. “Nothing. Gwen, I...I need…” She took a deep breath. “I am here as an SOE agent, same as you. I just regained my memories of Camelot, as I'm assuming you did as well, but I don't...I have no wish to harm you.”

“Why?” she asked curiously, moving back closer despite herself. “I was a commoner, yet I became the queen of Camelot while you were forced into exile and torture.”

“But none of that was your fault! I...do you remember when I held you captive in the Dark Tower?”

Gwen shuddered, pulling back ever so slightly. “How could I forget?”

“The only reason I knew where the tower was and what to do to you was because Morgause did it to me first.”

Gwen gasped. “Oh, Morgana...I should have known! You were gone for a whole year and you returned so angry and full of hatred. Not just for Uther, which was completely understandable and I never held against you, but for everyone in Camelot, even the villagers. You were so _different_ , but I...I assumed the worst in you immediately.”

Morgana looked at the ground. “After years of living with Uther, I was an excellent liar. I suppose it runs in the family.”

Gwen snorted. “Arthur was a terrible liar, so I doubt that.”

Both grew quiet at the mention of Arthur. After a long pause, Morgana quietly asked, “Will you search for him, then? Arthur, I mean?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I loved him then, I truly did, but our time together ended when he died. Besides, in this lifetime, I prefer to watch birds rather than stallions.” She looked at Morgana significantly.

Color rose in the other woman’s cheeks. “I see.” She cleared her throat. “Still, I feel like no words can do any justice to the regret I feel in having caused you pain, but I am so sorry for everything I put you through.”

“Morgana, you were under Morgause’s influence and not yourself. I know all too well what that is like. The only difference between us is that you had no one to fight for you, no one who knew how to help you. How can I blame you for that?”

Blinking back tears, Morgana continued to apologize. “Guinevere, you have to know that if I were in my right mind, I would _never_ have tried to hurt you. I lov...I loathe the thought of any harm coming to you.” Morgana slowly, hesitantly reached a hand out to her. Without thinking, Gwen grabbed Morgana’s wrist and pulled the other woman to her, bringing their lips together. Morgana reached out to brace herself, hands landing on Gwen’s hips. 

“Gwen, I...I don't want to...take advantage of-”

Gwen pulled back. “Before things got as...complicated as they did, I was more devoted to you than is typical for a servant. I thought it was just because I considered you a friend, but now I realize it was because I was in love with you. Truthfully, I never stopped, despite having feelings for others as well. Knowing what you went through, and knowing now that much of those thoughts and actions were not your true self, I want to apologize for not seeing through things sooner. I wish I had been able to save you.”

“But you did, my love.” Morgana gently caressed Gwen’s cheek. Her brown eyes fluttered closed at the touch. “Every time you brought me flowers just to cheer me up, or drew me a hot bath with candles to help me to sleep, or even just smiled at me, you saved me. I wish I had been strong enough to realize even through the Dark Tower’s influence that at least you would never have wished me ill.”

“I’m glad we met again in this lifetime. This is a fresh start for us both.”

“Guinevere,” Morgana said breathlessly. “You are the best thing in this world.” She gently cupped her face and kissed her, centuries of love and regret pouring into the kiss. Gwen sighed softly into her mouth, and Morgana took this opportunity to softly run her tongue across her mouth.

“Mmmnnnn, Morgana.”

Hearing her name whispered so reverently sent heat pooling in her belly. She couldn't keep her hands from roaming, from Gwen's face to her arms to her sides to her breasts. She kissed her way from Gwen’s lips to her neck and licked the juncture between her neck and shoulder, and was rewarded with a heavenly sigh.

“Oh, Morgana…Mmmmm… _Mmmmorgana_.”

At that last, her control snapped. Still applying a delicious amount of pressure and attention to her neck, Morgana’s hands set to work sliding up Gwen’s thigh. She could feel the warmth from there, and could feel her wetness even through her panties.

“Morgana, you - OH.”

Not bothering to slide the panties off, Morgana had pushed them to the side and inserted a long finger. She had been planning to tease the entrance, but Gwen was so wet that her finger slipped right in. Like it belonged there. Never one to waste an opportunity, she immediately began curling her fingertip to caress the soft flesh inside.

“Morgana, you - _yesssssss_ \- right there.”

“I love the way you say my name,” Morgana whispered. “I often dreamed of you saying it, but I never imagined it would be as beautiful as this.”

“Then I...ohhhh...shall _keeeeep_ saying it, so long as you don’t... _oh_...don’t stop.”

Morgana’s own panties began to dampen, but she continued to focus on Gwen’s building pleasure. Not bothering with a spell, her eyes flashed gold as she used her magic to remove Gwen’s blouse and brassiere. Often, as the other woman had leaned over her to adjust her blankets in Camelot, Morgana had fantasized about taking her breasts in her mouth and hands. She was almost delirious with the reality that she could do so now.

Gently closing her teeth around one nipple, she roughly tweaked and twirled the other with her fingers. The contrast between gentle and rough, combined with Morgana’s continued ministrations inside her, sent Gwen over the edge. She screamed wordlessly, body trembling with the force of her orgasm.

Morgana slowly removed her finger, and Gwen whimpered at the loss of contact. Her whimper turned into a shout halfway through when Morgana bent over, pulled her panties off with one hand, and licked a lazy circle around her clit.

“What...oh, _oh!_...what are you doing?”

Morgana paused and looked up. “You’re right, of course.” Lightning fast, she maneuvered them so Gwen was kneeling above her face. “The queen of Camelot deserves a throne.”

With that, she lowered Gwen down so her inner lips met Morgana’s tongue, and began eating Gwen out as if this were her last meal.

Gwen screamed as Morgana’s tongue twisted and writhed inside her, soft yet forceful, the tip of her nose rubbing against her clit with each stroke. Her mouth was soft and warm as it caressed Gwen’s outer lips, even while her tongue roughly penetrated and twisted inside her. She couldn't distinguish between each motion, it was all a blur of pleasure that was almost too much to bear.

“Morg-aa-ana, I'm going to-”

Morgana’s hands tightened their grip on Gwen’s hips, keeping her firmly anchored in place. Gwen began to rock back and forth so fast her thighs would have chafed if she weren't so wet, almost sobbing from the building intensity but craving more, more until-

She came again, screaming Morgana’s name. Her juices spilled into Morgana’s mouth and she eagerly lapped up every drop, Gwen shuddering around her tongue. All her magic was nothing compared to this.

Gwen tumbled off her face and collapsed on the ground next to her. “I didn't know I could...or that you would...I didn't know I could feel like that. Like this.”

A smug smile crept onto Morgana’s face. “I live to serve the queen.”

Gwen sat up, a playful look in her eye. “Now allow me to serve you, my lady.”

Their moans and shouts of pleasure filled the small shelter, drowning out the sirens and continuing long after they had stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> I chose Critchlow as Gwen's last name in reference to Hubert Nathaniel Critchlow, the founder of the modern trade movement in Guyana, since Angel Coulby is Guyanese. Then Penderghast for Morgana because it sounds similar to Pendragon and it's an Irish last name.


End file.
